Do You Believe the "Truth" Other People Tell You? (Long Chapter; Please Vote With Monthly Tickets)

Dim light fell across the sparsely furnished old living room as a woman with curly brown-gold hair and a plain uniform hurried through its center.

The apartment was small, with one bedroom, one living room, and one bathroom. Yellowing wallpaper, dull floor tiles, and dim lights all betrayed its age.

Around her, people searched the rooms, taking photos and documenting everything they found.

"This assassin lives in a pretty shabby place," a young man remarked, glancing at the simple furniture and decor. "And we had to climb all the way up because the elevator's broken."

"He rented it. It's just somewhere to stay for a while," said a middle-aged man lifting a sofa cushion. "He only got this place to assassinate the president. Why would he care what a temporary place looked like?"

"Do you think the assassin might come back?" a woman asked nervously.

"Probably not. He's likely hiding from the citywide manhunt right now. This rental is an obvious target, and he'll know we have it under watch," the middle-aged man said, setting down the cushion. "It's not his home. He wouldn't walk into a trap for a rented apartment."

"If he did come back, wouldn't we get a big arrest handed to us?" another young man said with a grin.

"Keep dreaming. Get back to collecting evidence." The middle-aged man glanced at the curly-haired woman as she headed toward the bedroom. "The Director said there was something off about the people who came this afternoon. We need to secure the key evidence before they do. We've still got plenty of work ahead."

While her colleagues chatted, the woman entered the apartment's bedroom.

There was little in it: a large bed, a clothes rail that barely passed for a wardrobe, and an aging metal bedside cabinet that looked